


Potted Plants and Bad Advice

by TheMightierPen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), a bit of angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 14:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightierPen/pseuds/TheMightierPen
Summary: Crowley is an RA at a university and he's their guardian demon because he's soft for kids fite me.  I wrote this based off a Tumblr post where Crowley's got 17 degrees because being minor inconvenience to London actually takes effort.  Also because my friend asked me to.





	Potted Plants and Bad Advice

London, 1987

Being a demon, it turned out, had a great deal of unforseen prerequisites. Times changed all too fast, and with it came a great many ways to tempt humanity into sin. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get by these days with just your occult knowledge and a well placed whisper. Sure that worked for the classic temptations, lust for example, but to really nail as many people as possible, well let’s just say orbital motorways don’t just build themselves.

So, for perhaps the 17th time in 6000 years, Crowley sat at his desk, fingers massaging his own temples, as he tried to figure out what the  _ heaven _ was wrong with the code in front of him. Computers were, of course, one of his sides inventions, and had been a real hit in the last decade, but so far Crowley had been the only demon to really try and understand them. It was very necessary, of course, because how was he supposed to use this new tool to tempt people if he had no idea how it worked? This was what he had told Dagon in the last memo, when they had spotted him on the Greenwich University campus. 

Crowley would never admit it to anyone, of course, but he rather enjoyed being here again. Of course, his invention of dormitories had thoroughly backfired on him, as the chair he currently sat on was not doing very nice things to his corporeal form. Nor did he understand why he’d come up with the concept of 7:00am classes, given his own propensity to sleep for literal centuries. But no, he actually sort of liked it here. There was something about learning new things that kept his mind busy through the millennia. 

_ ‘Sometimes too busy,’  _ he thought, still not fully understanding Unix. Why was this one so hard for him? He had three degrees in Literature, two in Architecture, a handful in Math, and another in Chemistry. He’d even gotten a Physics degree in 1954, as well as a smattering of other History, Philosophy, and Psychology degrees. The real kicker was his Religion Degree. He’d passed that exam with flying colours.

Crowley slammed the textbook shut, and got up from his desk. He wandered around his dorm room, stretching his gangly limbs and basking in the warm afternoon sun. His dorm would have appeared impersonal to anyone who didn’t know Crowley, and far  _ too _ personal if another demon saw it, but to a friend, it would seen just right. A few houseplants had been brought into the room, and they grew beautifully. About a decade or so ago he’d started talking to them, and halfway through that decade he’d started yelling at them. It was very effective, if a bit disconcerting to anyone nearby.

The demon had also changed the sheets, to a dark, black jersey material, far more comfortable than the itchy ones that had been provided (another of his own inventions, obviously). There was also, to many people’s surprise, a record player, sitting on an end table, a large vinyl spinning away on it.

_ Oooooh, won’t you take me home tonight, _

_ Oooooh, down beside that red firelight, _

_ Oooooh, gonna give it all you got, _

_ Fat bottom girls you make the rocking world go round! _

Yes, the last decade and a half or so had been a wild time for music, and Crowley was absolutely thrilled by it. He’d even gotten  _ acquainted _ with Mr. Mercury the last time he’d been in London on tour, and ever since then, the Bentley (which currently sat in Crowley’s reserved-unreserved parking space in the student lot), refused to play anything besides Queen’s music. Oh you could try, of course, but don’t leave a tape in there for more than a fortnight, or even the most angelic hymns would morph into rock and roll.

Crowley continued his wandering, just listening to the music and enjoying the sun, when a knock came at his door, making him jump.

“AJ?” a voice called from the hallway.

“ _ Shit,”  _ Crowley hissed, looking for his sunglasses. He snatched them off his bed, and put them on, before answering. “Yeah? What’s up kid?”

“Can I come in?” the voice asked. Young. Female. Who was it? Sadie? Or was it Marrissa? He never could tell just by the voices.

“Yeah, sure, it’s unlocked.” He sat back down at the desk, trying to look like he’d been studying like a responsible role model. He scoffed at himself internally.  _ Role model. _

A young girl with bright blonde curls opened the door, and took a cautious step inside. He’d been right, it was Sadie. She looked nervous, like she didn’t want to talk to him, but she knew it was her only choice. He was the RA after all.

Yes, Crowley, Demon of Hell and Tempter of Eve, was the RA at Greenwich University. It had seemed like the obvious choice to the faculty. This was his second degree, he knew the campus well, and young teens seemed to love him. They even gave him free residence (not that money was all that important to an occult being). Crowley had of course tried to use the first two weeks to tempt as many teens into doing sinful things, but he quickly realized that they very much did not need him to do that. And anyways, when a 19 year old boy comes to you, in tears, because it's his first time away from home and he’s desperately afraid to fail his first psychology essay, you do the responsible thing. You pour the kid a drink and talk it out. Then, he leaves happy as a lark and ten times more confident. 

So, as per usual, he had another nervous kid at his door, wanting his advice. His expertise, if you will, and boy did he have plenty of that. 

“Hey Saide, what’s grooovyy,” he offered. The girl laughed at the outdated slang. To them, Anthony “AJ” Crowley was a mid thirties Computer Sciences student on his second degree at the university, who was surprisingly cool despite being a bit dorky. Not as weird as some of his friends though, who came to visit from time to time. The stoner ones always made the dorms smell like shit, and AJ got super quiet after their visits. Then there was the bookshop owner from Soho, who was sweet and kind and always made everyone feel a bit fluffy inside when he walked around. No one knew how they knew each other, and they were all a bit afraid to ask.

“It’s...well, I’m okay I guess. I mean obviously I’m not okay because I’m here and talking to you, but yeah, I’m good.”

“Have a seat,” Crowley gestured to the spare chair he’d got for the room, for the kids. “School or personal?” he asked. He always started with that. It set the tone for the discussion.

“...personal.” Sadie all but whispered as she took a seat in the chair. 

“Wanna drink?” Crowley offered. He had liquor bottles in his filing cabinet, that were always  _ miraculously _ the right temperature. He pulled two gasses out of the top drawer, waving them at Sadie.

“Yeah, sure. I was gonna say no but I think it might help.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Crowley never forced the kids to do anything they didn’t want to do, not when they came to him. They trusted him. Yes, he knew he was demon, and yes he knew that he probably should tempt them to some sin whenever he could, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not to kids. Never to kids. 

“Nah, I want some.” Saide said, brow furrowing. “Please,” she added. Crowley nodded, and poured a shot of vodka into a glass, and handed it to her. She took the whole shot. 

“Big problem?” Crowley asked, as she held out the glass, silently asking for more. He indulged her. 

“Yeah,” she said.

“Well then, go for it.” Crowley leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. “What can I do for ya?”

“Okay, so you know when you like someone so much, but you can’t tell them ‘cause you’re friends and it would make it weird?” she blurted out. Crowley nearly choked on his vodka.

“Yeah sure lots of kids go through that,” he said, trying not to squeak. Lots of kids, and one very repressed demon, but yes he understood.

“Cool. Because I...I.” Sadie burst out crying. She gripped her glass in both hands, choking out sobs. Crowley spun his lanky limbs around, putting his feet back on the ground and placing a hand on Sadie’s shoulder.

“Woah there, what’s up?” he asked. She just shook her head. “Hey kid, it’s good. I, uh, I can help you through it? Whatever it is?” He still wasn’t great with crying. It threw him off most times, and now was no exception. So, he just let it run its course, until Sadie was able to take in a few shaky breaths and continue.

“Sorry. It’s just that I hoped that I would be able to come to school and forget about it, after what my parents said, but I can’t and it got worse and I…” she trailed off, her rambling dying down. She paused for a second, and took a deep breath in. “I think I’m in love with my roommate.”

“Your roommate?” Crowely asked.

“Yeah, Claire!” Sadie choked out another sob. “It’s just that she’s so nice, and pretty, and she can draw really well too, and there’s something about talented girls that I just, oh wow. But my parents told me it was just a phase and not to worry, that I’d find a nice boy and--”

“Hold it.” Crowley put his hand up, interrupting her. “Do you like boys?” Sadie paused, furrowing her brow again. She shook her head.

“Never did.”

“Okay, but your parents are...okay never mind I’ll deal with that. Claire, is she…?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem! I wanna ask, but what if she freaks out! I don’t wanna be the creepy lesbo sharing a room with her if she thinks I’m crazy!” 

“Yeah, that’s fair, but I mean you can’t just sit here and wallow until she notices, can you?” Crowley felt his stomach churn at the hypocrisy. No, it’s fine. He’s fine. This isn’t about that, this is about Sadie.

“Yeah, but even if she is gay too, what if she doesn’t like me? It’ll still make it weird.”

“Yeah but what if she does and you get to bring a cute girlfriend home with you for holiday? Huh?”

“Right because my family would  _ love _ that.” Sadie took another gulp of liquor.

“Problem for another day. Like I said I’ll handle that later. My point is, Saide, you like her, right? You’ve got that ache in your soul when you see her smile, your hands tingle a bit when they brush against hers?”

“My heart feels like it’ll jump out of my chest when she speaks.”

“Yep, you gotta tell her. Take it from me, kid, you don’t wanna sit on this. Either she likes you back or nah. If she doesn't, maybe you can be mature enough to talk it out and it won’t be weird. If not, I’ll get you a room change. Believe me, I have my ways, I’ll make it happen. But maybe she likes you back. You’re a sweet girl, lots to like, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“I don’t think so,” she whispered.

“Don’t think what?” Crowley asked.

“I don’t think there’s lots to like, I mean.”

“Nope, not gonna let you finish that thought. You’re what, 19?” he asked. “You think the world of this girl, so think of it this way. She’s the same age, got all the same hormones runnin’ around that you do. You see all the good stuff in her, right? Well she probably doesn't see any of it, because it’s herself. But I bet she’d see all the good stuff in you, even if you don’t. So no, none of that here.”

“Oh...uh...okay. Yeah I guess that makes sense.” Sadie brightened a bit. “Yeah! Okay, you’re right. I should just tell her. Next time we do lunch together, I’ll tell Claire that I fancy her. Even if she thinks I’m a creepy lesbo, at least I’m being honest, right?”

“There it is!” Crowley threw his hands in the air, and spun around on his chair. “Go get ‘em Sadie.”

“I will!” she stood up, triumphantly, before looking back down at Crowley. “Thanks AJ. Umm, for everything. You’re the first person I’ve told who didn’t make a big deal out of it. Thanks.” She leaned over and gave him a hug. 

_ ‘For Satan’s sake’ _ he thought. This was not proper demonic activity. He was going to be in deep shit for this.

“No problem,” was all he said as Sadie practically skipped out the door. He couldn’t lie that it made him a bit perkier, seeing a kid a bit happier with themselves. He vowed never to let Aziraphale know about any of this. The angel would never let him live it down, and when you live forever that’s a very long time. But regardless, Crowley had work to do now. 

He spun back to face his textbook, and knocked it to the side. Unix could wait, he had errands to run.

_____

Crowley was walking down the streets of Soho, just enjoying the sunset. Or at least, he thought he was walking. Everyone around him likely would have described it more as a saunter than anything else. Maybe even a strut. But a but of demonic activity did always put him in a rather good mood. He’d gone back to his roots, a bit of  _ personal  _ demonic attention for a pair of unsupportive parents. The car crash hadn’t been fatal, of course, everyone had survived, but it would make them a bit more…appreciative of life in all its many ways of manifesting. It made him very smug. So smug even, that he thought about sending a memo to Head Office about how well he was doing, or inviting himself over to Angel’s house for some wine.

His thoughts of celebrations were cut off though, as he passed an alleyway. It wasn’t the alley that stopped him, of course. Crowley loved alleys. Perfect spot for some good old fashioned temptations. No, what stopped him was the sound coming from the alley. The long, deep croaking of a demonic frog.

“Hastur!” Crowley spun around to face the alley, trying to act cool. “How’s it hangin’?”

“Crowley.” Hastuer growled out the other demon. “How is  _ what _ hanging?”

“Ugh, never mind. What are you here for Hastur? Come to commend me on my demonic work? Another glowing report from the boys downstairs?”

“Quite the opposite, actually. Hehe.” Hastur’s laugh was joyless, like any demon’s should be. Crowley despised it. “What have you been doing up here, Crowley? I got word you were... _ helping children _ .”

“Me, helping kids?” Crowley said, feigning offence as best he could. “Never! No I just thought I’d go back to an old method, that’s all! Hang out in a university, surrounded by stressed out kids, their first time out of the house? I barely have to tempt them at all! A push here, a shove there, and those kids are over the edge as soon as I’m in the door.”

“Hm.” Hastur did not sound convinced. Crowley knew it, too. Sure he’d joined in his fair share of residence parties, and his table dancing was still just as impressive when kids though he was 35, but he also gave Jeremy a plant last week. He’d been stressed, and lonely, so it was meant to give him someone to talk to. He had yelled at it once. That counted as Wrath, right? And no one needed to tempt teenagers into Lust at a university.

“Hastur, I know what I’m doing. Believe me this is all very...dark, evil,  _ demonic _ activity. And it’s going pretty well if I do say so myself.”

“I do not trust you, Crowley,” Hatsur growled again. He gave no other retort, though.

“Well I don’t expect you to, Hastur. We’re demons.” Crowley nudged his shoulder a bit, keeping up a nonchalant air.

“Yes. We are. Do not forget that.” Hastur. vanished before Crowley could make another witty comeback. Instead, he just mumbled abit to himself, and continued on his way. 

He probably should have gone back to the residence, but he didn’t. No, he decided to just keep wandering around Soho, until something interesting happened. He swaggered his way along the street, throwing out a couple demonic vibes here and there as he saw fit. Tempting a few people to shoplift, suggesting to another that no, one more piece of cake wouldn’t hurt, just little things, to keep him busy. He was in no mood for his usual mischief now, all the smugness from earlier gone after Hastur’s little visit. But a couple little things to keep him from twiddling his thumbs was enough for now.

Mostly, he was trying to keep his mind off of the advice he’d given Sadie. It was good advice, and that was the biggest problem. Not only was demon giving people good advice, but this demon actually needed to take it, too.

“Just tell her!” Crowley mocked himself, as he walked down the now quieting streets. “Who cares if your friends and no one around you approves of it, you should just tell her. Why am I so stupid!” He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his own head at his moronic behaviour.

He stopped in front of a shop window, catching a glimpse at himself. He’d cut his hair pretty short this decade, absolutely  _ refusing _ to don a mullet, but otherwise the 80s were good to him, style wise. Tight black jeans and boots, and a button down with garish, awful neon triangles on it. He didn’t wear colour often, but the kids made fun of him when he wore all black. Sometimes he could get away with it when he pulled out a leather jacket, but he wasn’t feeling very punk today. He’d kept the male body though, not that it really mattered right now. He could pretty much get away with wearing whatever he wanted, with the bright colours and androgynous fits. Shoulder pads, though, were  _ not _ for him. Nope, he was far to lanky and boney for that.

_ ‘He probably doesn't see that’ _ his own mind reminded him, as he considered what the angel would think. No. He wasn't giving himself a therapy session right now. He was a demon. That’s much worse than being a hormonal gay teenager. The advice was not mutually applicable. 

He knew he was lying to himself, of course. Of course it was. Aziraphale never saw his own glowing smile that way Crowley did, and he hoped that the angel saw a million nice things in him, no matter how many times he denied it. But this wasn’t angry mums and dads, and roommate at stake. This was 6000 years, the only friend he’d ever had, and possibly a very angry Head Office on both sides, who could smite them both in an instant. But still, he was drawn to the angel, and he couldn’t lie to himself, or anyone else about that. This was especially evident when Crowley realized that he’d started walking again, right up to the door of Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“Bless me,” he cursed to himself. It also did not help that he could see the angel from the window, putting his books away for the night. He was up on a ladder, putting some dusty first editions back onto their shelves, and shooing a few people out of the shop. Crowley knew he should leave. He remembered the last time he’d tried to be all feelingsy with his angel.

_ “You go too fast for me, Crowley.” _

That one had hurt. A lot. But still, he was not a very smart demon most days, so instead of going back to campus and doing something demonic, he miracled a bottle of wine and sauntered into the bookshop.

_____

Aziraphale had known that Crowley had seen him. He’d seen him too, fighting with his own mind before miracling the bottle and sauntering in. But still, he liked to make the demon feel wily and sneaky, so he feigned ignorance when the bell sounded, announcing Crowley’s arrival.

“I’m very sorry but we are quite closed right now. The hours are posted on the sign in front of the door, if you-”

“Angel!” Crowley said, flinging his arms up and brandishing the bottle. “I brought wine!”

“Oh! Crowley, it’s you!” Aziraphale climbed down off his ladder, and dusted off his trousers. He adjusted his bowtie before taking the bottle from his friend. “And what is the occasion?”

“Nyeh.” Crowley made a noncommittal noise and shrugged his shoulders. “Do you need one?”

“Of course not, my dear boy, I was just making sure that I didn’t forget anything important.”

“What, like we celebrate birthdays?” Aziraphale rolled his eyes, pouring them both a glass of wine. 

“No, I was just-nevermind. So,” Aziraphale opened the door to the back room, and plopped onto the couch, miraculously not spilling a drop of wine. “How’s school?”

“Oh, very evil, angel.” Crowley retorted, sliding himself onto a chair, and hanging his legs across the arms. “I’m tempting a great many students into doing devilish deeds. They’re all busy doing-”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale hushed him with a word. “That’s not what I mean. The actual school part. How’s it going.”

“Oh, uh, you mean my...cover?” he asked, floundering.

“Crowley you don’t get an entire physics degree as a cover. Nor do you get a Computer Sciences degree just so you can tempt some of the local youth.” He gave Crowley a smile that was  _ far _ to devilish for an angel. “You enjoy it.”

“I do not! I am a being of occult knowledge and power. I don’t need to  _ learn things _ !” Once again, he was doing a pretty bad job at feigning offence.

“And yet I saw you on an honours Alumni listing.” Aziraphale said, sipping his wine. It was a very good vintage. Crowley did have the best taste.

“You snooped?” This time, Crowley was genuinely surprised, and a bit offended.

“I might have done a bit of...research,” the angel replied, prim as ever. “Your test scores were very good, if I recall.”

“Bastard.” Crowley hissed. Then, he reclined back to his position, trying to look unbothered. “I miracled my scores anyways.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“I really do not believe you, my dear boy.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m a demon, afterall.” Crowley wiggled an eyebrow above his glasses. “Can’t be trusted.”

“So you did enjoy it then?” Aziraphale pressed. He knew his friend, and more importantly, he knew when he was hiding something. “Really, my dear, it’s not that bad to enjoy a bit of learning from time to ti-”

“Shut it, angel, you have no idea.” Crowley snapped. He zipped back up to a properly seated position, elbows forwards on his knees, as he swirled his wine glass. He stared into it, swishing the drink around the bowl of the glass. Then he tipped it back, and downed the whole thing.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale sounded concerned, because he was. It dripped off of him, and Crowley could feel it radiate towards him. 

_ ‘He really is too good for me.’ _ he thought. He always knew what was up, when something was wrong, or when he was just having a bad day. It was too much. Crowley put the wine glass on the table in front of Aziraphale, and turned to leave, mumbling something about duties and studying and whatever else.

He was stopped in his tracks, by an ever so slight tug on his sleeve. Barely enough to notice, but beyond enough to keep him in his spot.

“Crowley, please. Tell me what happened.” Aziraphale stared up at him, blue eyes piercing right through Crowley’s glasses, into yellow ones. 

“Angel, you wouldn’t….” he started.

“Try me.” His brows furrowed and he patted the spot beside him, inviting Crowley to sit again. He did, reluctantly, his back against the armrest, and feet up on the cushion in front of him. Aziraphale placed a comforting hand on his leg.

“I got the closest thing to a reprimand I’ve had in...uh ...800 years give or take? Hastur caught me on the way home. They aren’t believing the cover. It’s mostly true though, my lie. Sure I’m not  _ actually  _ tempting anyone while I’m there, but I don’t really need to, and I invented half the worst stuff there anyways.” Crowley rambled, a bit wine-drunk. “But I really do need to be there. Do you know how hard it is to be a minor inconvenience to people! I redesigned a motorway to spell a demonic sigil! That takes effort, and education that the others downstairs definitely do  _ not _ have. They’re all  _ craftsmen _ with their ‘one person for a few decades’ bit. I’m trying to innovate! I’ve gotta keep up with the times, angel! Not my fault that the kids…” Crowley stopped himself, remembering his vow not to tell Aziraphale that he was doing something that might actually be almost nice.

“Kids?” Aziraphale asked, suddenly very concerned again, though not for Crowley. “ I thought you said you didn’t-”

“Yeah, I still don’t,” he assured the angel. He took a deep breath, and decided to screw his own vow. He needed to get this off of his chest. “I may or may not have been given a job. As an RA. At the school.”

“A what?” Aziraphale’s stunned expression drew a snorting laugh out of the slightly tipsy demon. 

“An RA, angel. A Residence Assistant. I’m supposed to make little activities and help the kids transition. But I kind of became their favourite person. They ask me for advice.  _ Me,  _ angel? They ask  _ me _ for  _ advice! _ Can you believe that?” Aziraphale, to Crowley’s surprise, leaned forward and removed the demon’s glasses. He stared directly into his eyes for a moment, then nodded his head.

“Yes, I can Crowley. I believe it.”

“Well...uh...I can’t,” he stammered, trying to recover from the intensity of his friends gaze. “I guess it’s still pretty bad, I mean, me giving life advice to teenagers. Definitely not what I should be doing, as a demon, but I’m not sure I’m being that helpful either, so maybe it cancels out? I dunno, angel. I just don’t want the guys downstairs to take it out on the kids if they find out, you know?”

“Yes, Crowley, I do know. Despite what you say about yourself, you do have a heart, and that’s-”

“That’s enough, angel.” Crowley stuck out a hand, trying to silence Aziraphale. The angel swatted it away.

“No it is not! I am quite tired of all this. I understand very well how much they want you to be heartless and cruel to all beings, but I’ve known you,  _ really _ known you, for 6000 years. I saw you in Mesopotamia, Crowley, you were heartbroken about those poor children. I am not surprised that you have begun to help them again. And anyhow, you are probably right. Having the wily Serpent of Eden as their on call fellow in the dormitory is likely not the  _ best _ influence ever.” The angel wiggled an eyebrow.

Crowley laughed at the joke, trying once again to ignore his own advice. What he’d just heard out of the angel was not helping, of course, but he was determined to forget what he’d said to Sadie. So, he kept talking.

“They call me AJ,” he said, a bit off handedly. Aziraphale quirked a smile.

“AJ? Really? Good lord, that one does not suit you. At least Anthony has some maturity to it.”

“Ah, they think it’s cool though. Tubular, groovy even.”

“Oh  _ do _ stop that, please.” Aziraphale had decided that the 1980s was so far the worst decade for weird slang terms. Crowley, as always, insisted on using them.

“Never. Anyways yeah, sometimes I’ll give them a plant to talk to, or just an ear. Lot of them feel alone, left out. Cast out, in some ways.”

“And you help them. It is a shared life experience Crowley. It’s okay.” Aziraphale was still trying to comfort Crowley, to get him to relax a bit. Show his true colours. It was all too much. Crowley spat out the next sentence, as it escaped him, very much against it’s better judgement.

“A girl came out to me today.” They both paused. Crowley didn’t want to tell Aziraphale about Sadie, because it would mean telling his angel about himself. It was too late now, though.

“Oh?” Aziraphale prodded. Well now he just  _ had _ to finish the story.

“Yeah. Her parents were pretty shit about it to her, told her it was a phase and all that, but she’s sure. The parents will be too, after what happened to them today.” Aziraphale looked at him a bit crossly. “Demon, remember? Anyways,” he continued, “She uh...fell in love with her roommate. She doesn't want to tell her, though, because they're ...mmm ...well, they’re friends and she doesn’t want to ruin anything. She’s also a bit down on herself, like most kids are, and, well, I just, ah, told her to, well, get over it, and tell her. It’ll work out eventually, and I told her to ...maybe start, ah, seeing some of the good in herself too.” Crowley couldn’t look Aziraphale in the eyes. He just remembered 1968, and the Bentley, and….

‘ _ You go too fast for me, Crowley.’ _

Aziraphale sat there a moment, thinking. Or at least, trying to think, but getting very distracted by Crowley’s eyes. He had to say something, of course, but what? What to say? He really was lost here, this time.

“I think you did, ah, the right thing.” was what he settled on. Should you tell a demon that they did a good thing? Supporting a young girl as she discovers herself and her feelings is undeniably good, but of course demons were not supposed to be good, and he couldn’t bear Crowley getting in trouble. No, that was quite out of the question.

“I know, angel. That’s why I’m worried.” Crowley said. However, Aziraphale noticed that he looked anything but worried. The facade returned. “Can’t have hell thinking I’ve gone soft on them, now can I? Anyways, that was nice. I’ve gotta go now, can’t stick around with demonic tasks to attend to. Bye, angel.” Crowley rushed out the door, and back onto the street, barely before Aziraphale could choke out a weak and startled farewell. 

He stood up, and picked up the wine glasses off of the table, and put them in the sink in the kitchenette. He mulled over the conversation for the rest of the night, very worried that he’d said the wrong thing, that it was him that had made Crowley close up like that again. The demon was like a fly trap for emotions. As soon as he opened up a bit, and anyone got close, he snapped back up, not to open for a long while. This was something, though, Aziraphale realized. If this told him one thing, it confirmed that Crowley, against all odds, had a rather large soft spot for children. And while it wasn’t at all demonic, it  _ was _ very charming.

_____

Crowley practically stomped home, his own anger radiating in waves around him. It was so much that it caused a couple to yell at each other seemingly nothing, and another young boy to start wailing on the street. Wrath indeed. 

By the time Crowley got back to his dormitory, it was well into the night, and his anger at many things, mostly himself, had been thoroughly cemented. In fact, it was so cemented that Crowley found himself tossing and turning in bed, a thing that rarely happened to him. He tossed for so long that he abandoned his favorite human pastime; sleeping, in favour of his next favourite; drinking.

He pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and began to pace across the floor, taking swigs at a fairly regular rate. He miracled a record onto the player, and it rang out angrily thought the dorm.

_ Death on two legs- _

_ You’re tearing me apart, _

_ Death on two legs _

_ You never had a heart of your own _

“Oh but I do have a heart, Mercury. I fucking do! That’s the blessed issue, isn’t it? That I’ve got a bloody blessed heart and I feel too fucking much!” He punctuated it by throwing the glass at the wall, shattering it.

“Eek!” a small voice came out from the hallway, followed by a hurried placement of something, and the scurrying of feet. Crowley ignored it, instead just laying down on the floor until he passed out, the record still spinning, and his mind still racing. 

The next morning, Crowley miracled away the shattered glass, and what would have been a nasty hangover to any normal human. He also searched around for another pair of sunglasses, realizing that he’d left the pair he’d been wearing at the bookshop. Not that it mattered, there were always more where those came from. He put himself back together, combed his hair, and changed his clothes. Today he was feeling much more punk, and donned the leather jacket, accompanied by all black.

He felt better after a good sleep, as always, and arranged his things to keep studying. He had to have just the right environment to study in. He was a snake after all, so he was very picky. He decided to go down and get some food, to maintain a semblance of humanness, and to apologize to whoever he’d freaked out last night, when he opened the door.

Waiting for him, though, was a small fern, sitting on the floor. There was a note attached to the pot. He picked up the plant, and brought it into the room, placing it on his desk. 

“Hm. Nice little thing you are. Bit short, but I’ll fix that.” Crowley sneered at the plant. It shivered a bit under his gaze. He picked up the note, and read it over. It was from Sadie.

_ I told her. She’s a bit hesitant, but she thinks she feels the same way. We’re gonna give it a try. Thanks AJ, couldn’t have done it without you. _

_ Sadie. _

_ P.S. You look like a plant guy, so I got you this. _

Usually, Crowley threw out notes, but he stared at this one for a moment. A swell of pride rose in him, and a bead of water almost welled up in his eye, before thinking better of it and sinking back down into his tear duct. He folded the note, and placed it in his desk. The plant went on the windowsill, where it could soak up the sun before it got its first talking to later that night.

Crowley looked out the window at the morning sky, as the glow of the sun rose up above the clouds. Soft, pillowy, just like a couch in a bookshop in Soho. The sky was as blue as the eyes of an angel, one that might, one day, be willing to go a little bit faster. But today, Crowley had classes to go to. Unfortunately, the World Wide Web wasn’t going to invent itself.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hello yes this is my first fic that I actually share but my editor for my book is on vacation and I'm desperate for feedback.


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